


The Godsake

by Hircine_Taoist



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Genderswap, Horse-Loki, Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Thor (2011), Shapeshifting, Shapeshifting complications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 02:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18295238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hircine_Taoist/pseuds/Hircine_Taoist
Summary: There are Asgardians, and then there are gods, the named ones who have a gift that comes with their Godsake. Loki has yet to receive his, still a youth trying to please a father who didn't understand him well. This rift is only expanded when Loki is finally given a godly title, one that only assures a continued struggle.This is also a take on how Sleipnir came to be, following close with the Prose Edda.





	The Godsake

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is my first time publicly posting a fanfic (ever, anywhere), so please feel free to give me any tips on tags, better note making, writing tips, etc.! 
> 
> I wrote this one some time back due to an idea on how the gods got their godly titles. And I also love Sleipnir/Loki art. I imagine he was quite a scamp of a colt.

The mare eyed the old man warily, even while nipping up grass. She was a fair horse, glossy dark brown with a black mane and white socks. There was a wide white ‘V’ marking the forehead, trailing a pale line down her nose. Lean and tall in the leg, she seemed ready to bolt or charge, however her mood decided.

Her colt, ever curious, had come closer and closer to the older man, sniffing at his offers of apples and carrots, rare treats out here in the wilderness. Like his dam, he was dark in coloring, but nearly solid black and gray with a spattering of pale spots on his flank. He also had more legs, all lanky, making his motions seem smooth and spidery compared to how an equine should move. These eight limbs were pattering especially swift to take the offered treats and retreat. 

This did not please the mare. The Aesir had been intruding on their glade all day, coming ever closer. He moved now, finding a seat on a fallen tree before offering another carrot to the colt. The mare’s ears flipped back as her foal bolt it down greedily.

Another half hour of this, and finally he moved toward the mare. A hoof stamped warningly, but it was mildly ignored. Nostrils flared at the familiar scent, ears perked at the sound coming from his mouth, a calm repeating of a name that just barely escaped comprehension, instead tantalizing to the point of irritation at her subconscious.

Finally the mare decided he only wished to capture her and her colt. Many had tried, predator and giant alike, but the horse had been far too clever and decidedly vicious for anything to take her or her foal in tooth or hand. Thus she gave no warning. She snapped at the hand and swung her body about, intent on knocking him over.

It was with some surprise that her much larger equine body didn’t budge the Aesir--not a bit. It felt as though she had snapped her rump against a solid oak tree. The stumbling caused her teeth to close on open air, and suddenly she was huffing angrily as her ear was grabbed.

“Show your true form.”

The magic flowed out with the words, and the angry huffing turned quickly into a squeal of pain. Muscles twisted, bones snapped loudly. The mare writhed, shrunk, and then there was a mare no more. Instead a pale, slender young man was left in the grass, shuddering and cramping. At one point he tried to lift himself. He failed, falling back to his belly. He stayed there, trying to catch his breath, black hair dripping in his face.

A robe dropped over his pale frame. “You're supposed to relax and breathe with the change, Loki.”

Loki. Ah, yes… His breathing slowed carefully, the glaze of pain leaving his green eyes as he looked up past his bangs. “Hello, Father.” He forced a grin on his young face. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Odin shook his head, sitting on the fallen tree once more. Loki was slow to sit up, clumsily trying to button the green and black robe. It was difficult coordinating his fingers after they had been hooves for so long. “Where’s my colt?” Loki asked, looking about with some alarm as he fumbled with the toggles.

“There. Watching. He looks rightly confused.”

Loki laughed breathily, kneeling a little straighter and taking a deep breath. “I feel as though I’ve been trodden in a stampede.”

“You are too young to be practicing the art of shapeshifting.” Now, finally, there was irritation in Odin’s voice. 

Loki wearily waved a hand to where the eight-legged colt was shuffling slowly toward them. “I am not rightly of the age to even marry. Yet I am a mother. I tend to pay little attention to such rules, apparently.”

“It is no jesting matter. You changed your mind as well as your body. You could have been lost.”

Loki closed his eyes, head tilting up so when he opened them, he only saw sky. Free, beautiful sky with wisps of white cloud being chased by the wind. “So, enough of our greeting pleasantries then. What punishment can I expect?”

When Odin didn’t answer, he looked over at him. His father looked terribly tired, even as he used a small knife to slice off a bit more apple and offered it to the nearing colt. Once taken, he started to speak, his tone careful. “I think losing your mind to being a hooved beast for nearly two years and suffering labor pains is enough.” He looked at him neutrally. “Besides, your mother wants you home tonight in time for your century celebration.”

Loki immediately groaned, falling onto his back and covering his face. “I hate my birthday!” He had ever since some years ago when he had unsuccessfully flirted with Sif. He had fumbled so badly, she had given him a black eye for his trouble.

Odin continued as though uninterrupted. “She would be wroth if I sent you away on some punishment. However, you are to agree to never use her in any sort of bargain ever again. I will have you swear on it.”

Loki draped a forearm over his forehead, eyeing the sky still. He thought back to that night, frowning. The stranger had come so close to completing the wall, and people were wrathful with Loki’s mistake (as they all seemed to believe it was his fault). They were threatening him to fix it, or threatening to assassinate the builder… but had they done so… had they done that… “Mother is all right, though, yes?”

“Yes. After the builder lost his stallion, he revealed himself to be a giant and attacked Asgard. Your brother slew him.”

Of course. Thor would be lauded for such. Loki watched a breeze play with several long fronds of grass bending within his sight. “But no one attacked him first?”

“No,” Odin assured. “We kept our oath to him that he would work without fear of harm. He broke that agreement when he attacked.”

Good. But Loki said nothing outwardly. Instead he turned his thoughts to other matters. He had been gone for so long… “While I am a bit glad, since I left everyone while they were quite furious with me… No one sought me?”

“We did at first, but you had not deigned to tell your plan to any. It was Thor who finally admitted he had ran amok of you as you wert leaving your room… as a woman.”

Loki frowned, gaze flicking with a bit of hurt. “He promised he would not say.”

“That may be, but it was I who ordered him to speak his secret. Thor worried for you, and slew the giant so viciously in part for fear he had harmed you.”

Those long hands covered his face, making an annoyed sound. “I told him I was not seeking to seduce the builder. I do have standards.”

“So instead you seduced a stallion?”

A snittiness curled into Loki’s tone. “It was unintended. I was a bit overwhelmed by instinct after a time.” His tone softened. “Besides, the builder’s horse was not at fault for his master’s deceit of his true form. It is not as though I sought out a monster.”

“You did not have enough experience with this magic.” There was scorn in that tone. Loki was silent, waiting for the remainder of the berating he suspected to come. Instead, Odin’s tone quieted. “We would have brought you back sooner, afraid the spell might degrade your mind. However, by the time we puzzled out what you truly did and which horse you were…”

Loki sat up slowly, watching the colt munch at another carrot from his father’s hand. His smile was faint, but sincere. “... I’m glad you let me at least wean him. He is not a bad little colt.”

“But he is only that--a colt.”

The smile faltered. Loki didn’t miss his meaning. His next words were chosen carefully. “I know he cannot be treated as a true child. Yet I would be agitated were he to be sold as any common beast would. Spare him that much.”

Odin’s single eye considered his youngest son carefully. Loki was still youthful considering Aesir years. He had only started to grow into his hands and feet, finally lengthening in limb after so long of Thor towering over him. He was still slight and willowy, all angles and less attractive, bordering on gauntness in his later years toward full maturity. Slight in chest and shoulders, he had always been fragile seeming, but taken with quick wit, energy, and a grin that seemed to take up half his face. Now his green eyes were solemn, and at the moment he seemed the elder of his sons somehow.

“It is an oddity,” All-father observed. “Tending to a colt is the most responsible I have ever seen you behave.” He turned his gaze to the colt as two of the legs pawed over his knee. “We will be keeping him. He should be-Well!” The colt had balanced on one foreleg, using two to paw, and the other to scoot the pouch close till he could snatch it in his teeth. Currently he was running away with his stolen apples and carrots, nearly stumbling on his many legs in his haste. “Slippery devil,” Odin observed, though his voice was free of malice.

Loki laughed briefly, his aching ribs the only thing forcing the merriness to stop. “Like father, like son,” he said. Then the smile faded, looking up at the sky with a frown as a wind pulled at them. Something was troubling him, some sense of an energy he could not place.

The Allfather knew what the energy was. He had felt it coming for some time. Now it stole upon them swiftly, but there was no denying the weight of importance it bore as it whispered naggingly at the magic-users’ senses. Odin’s eye froze on Loki again, then he stood, his power no longer cloaked as it had been when he approached two strange horses. Loki was confused as he leaned down, large hands clasping his thin ones and helping him to his feet.

“It is your time to be named, Loki.” He looked down at him solemnly. “To receive your Godsake.”

This did startle Loki. “Now?” His voice was much smaller than he meant it to be. Receiving the official Godsake was an honor. Only truly powerful Aesir even received one. While Loki had no doubts he would achieve a title, its suddenness imbalanced him. He was in but a robe, its voluminous sleeves causing his bare hands and feet to seem as thin, white branches trembling with an unseen breeze, still weak from shifting. Even so, he drew in a breath, senses opening. Understanding calmed his green eyes, and he gave a nod, mouth dry. “So it is…”

Thor had been named on his birthday as well, among a celebrating throng in court, before a happy mother and a proudly beaming father. God of Thunder had been heralded and followed by a thousand cheers, the Godsake rolling through Asgard and beyond. Loki, instead, was to be named standing barefoot in a small glade, the power rising in a nameless meadow that stole his breath as the Old Magic rushed through his father, the stronger hands having to hold him upright. When the Godsake was spoken and sealed, it came forth not in a roar, but a whisper.

“ _You are Loki, God of Mischief._ ”

The wind that curled about them and died left Loki shivering with a chill. Loki stared up at Odin, his hands limp in his grip. A protest was fighting to escape his throat, but they both knew it was done. There was no changing it. So instead he struggled to swallow, a shaky grin finding its way on his face. The sound that came out was a choked laugh.

“Mischief,” he repeated. He blinked his eyes, shaking his head, but the grin stayed. “Fitting! I admit, I was thinking language, words, riddles and spells, even. But no matter.”

Odin’s gaze made the troublemaker realize he saw right through his lying smile, could see and sense the raw pain in him. Loki refused to let himself falter, even as his father spoke. “It is as you have said. You do pay little attention to the rules. They are but a challenge for you to bend, break, or absolve.”

Loki nodded mutely, not disagreeing. “Well, there was a hope…” Hope for what? he wondered. A chance to make his father proud of becoming something worthwhile? Had that ever been anything but foolish?

“There still is.” Odin gripped his small shoulders firmly, waiting for his gaze to find his. “Remember, it was I who agreed to let the builder name his prize. It may have been your mischief that suggested the return deal and endangered your mother to being lost to a giant’s cruelty, but it was also your mischief that saved her without our breaking oath and causing ourselves a worse curse.”

Loki could only offer a weak smile up before lowering his gaze. “Well… Let it not be said that I will be unable to live up to the name, then.” He looked away, and Odin released his hold so his adopted son could call after the colt. “Now, see, we have let him leave our sight. It will take forever to find him. How I know! Slippery, didn’t you say?”

Odin wanted to continue convincing Loki the Godsake could be worthwhile, but he recognized the attitude. Nothing would get through that shield of aloof sarcasm now. He’d seen it many times on his youngest. There was naught anyone could say, compliment or curse, when he was so. Loki would only laugh, using his words to barb back, and his eyes would remain dangerously curtained the entire time--untouchable from anyone’s cruelty or allowing any to slip past his defenses where they could harm him where they could see.

Also, Loki was quite right. The colt had disappeared from their sight, no doubt gorging himself on his stolen goods. “Your children will be troublesome,” the All-father murmured as he left the glade, following the God of Mischief.

They had a colt to track down and a celebration to attend to.


End file.
